


Consorting

by Daiako (Achrya)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Blood, Character Death, Fire, M/M, Pain, Soul Selling, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 12:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9181657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Daiako
Summary: On Noct's thirteenth birthday his father is killed in the course of an uprising and Noctis is taken to be used as a sacrifice to a demon. Instead of dying Noctis makes a deal: his soul in exchange for the power to destroy those who killed his father. He loses six years and rights to his own soul but gains Ignis in the trade. He generally considers it a worthwhile trade.Black Butler AU that absolutely no one asked for.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Someone (me) decided to watch Black Butler again (because I don’t love myself) and here we are. *deep breath* One shot, one shot, must not get too deep.
> 
> Exists somewhere about five steps off from canon. *head tilt* It translated surprisingly well to Black Butler themes. Anyway, Noctis is a bitter brat (which. Not that far from the truth) and Ignis is more demon than 'Iggy' but he'll settle with time.

 

“If you reject the Six you’ll never know peace in the afterlife.” The voice was deep and smooth, accented, dark in a way that made that hair on the back of Noctis’ neck stand on end. He was afraid, yes, so afraid he would have been shaking if he could feel his body but he was also angry. Angry enough that nothing else mattered. It raged through him, burning like poison and fire, consuming all in it's path and hollowing him out on the inside until all he knew was bitter rage.

He held it, cradled it close, and let it keep him afloat when he should had already drowned. He was certain he was dead, body animated only by the urge to destroy what had already destroyed him. 

“Well, young prince? The voice asked. A bird cawed from somewhere but he couldn’t see it because the world was drenched in red red red. “Will you form a contract with me knowing that? I offer you everything your desire but are you prepared to pay the price?” 

He blinked, perhaps, but the world stayed red. “I’ll live?” 

“For a time.” 

“You’ll help me kill the people who killed my father?” 

“Yes.” He could hear the smile, imagined it to be sweet, kind, and full of razor sharp teeth just begging to tear the flesh from him if he said the wrong thing. 

But, then, Noctis was dying anyway so what did it matter what he said? 

Even though the pain was gone, lost in the stillness of a body he could no longer feel, he remembered it. White hot, tearing through his back and the burn of poison that followed, slowly searing its way through his body and stealing his ability to move, to breathe, as blood began to fill his lungs and magic leaked out of him in sizzling rivulets until he was empty of everything. Fire had raged around him, painting the air red and orange and staining it with the smell of cooking flesh.

There had been other children before him, screaming and squirming as their blood spilled, but only his had made the summoning circle sing. 

And yet that had not been the worst of it but, rather, the end. No, the worst had come before when demons had swarmed his home in the night, ripping him away as the screams of his father, the nobles, and the guard throbbed in his ears. In comparison to that being held in a cage, occasionally dragged out for the amusement of those who had stolen him, and then sacrificed to a demon was almost tolerable. 

“You’ll help me take my country back?”

A shadow fell over him, turning the world a darker red, and warm air curled around his ear. “My prince, I will see you seated upon a throne made of the bones of your enemies if you so desire it. I will make you king and then you will pay my price.”

That seemed dramatic. 

“My soul.” He knew about dealing with demons and the prices they demanded from those foolish enough to accept their offers. If his father could see this, could know what he was doing he would...but. His father was dead, Noctis was all that was left, and he would have to make due. The dead didn’t get to scold the living. 

Noctis swallowed, the taste of metal thick on his tongue and clogging his throat. “I accept.” 

A smile spread against his ear. He blinked and his vision cleared enough to let him see the figure of a boy, not much older than him, with eyes that gleamed an unnatural green color and brown hair that fell neatly over his forehead and was tucked behind his ears. He was hovering over him, straddling him perhaps but Noctis couldn’t feel his body so he couldn't be sure. He smiled softly and brought his hand up to touch his face. He covered one of his eyes, lips pulling down as he leaned in close enough that their noses touched; Noctis gasped in surprise as a sharp, but brief, pain bloomed under the other boy’s touch and again as lips brushed his own.

“So it shall be, my young prince.”

Light flared, blue and electric, arced away from Noctis then twisted around to return to him. He screamed, pain returning tenfold, but couldn’t hear himself, the frantic thumping of his heart drowning everything out. His vision bleed red; the eye the demon was covering burned so badly he would have torn it out if he could. Something popped and leaked, spread over his face hot and thick. 

The world went dark, leaving him with nothing but the feeling of being torn down to his bones and made anew. 

\---

Noctis stared up at the burned out shell that had once been his family’s ‘country’ estate. They’d called it the Haven, a quiet place just outside the country’s borders where many a Lucii king had retreated to rest or welcome other heads of state and ambassadors in a more ‘relaxed’ setting than the palace in Insomnia. It had always been thought to be safe, protected by magic and the blessing of the Six. 

Now it was little more than a charred skeleton and empty holes where glass once sat surrounded by gardens that had grown out of control and a forest that seemed dark and deep in stark contrast to the fond memories he had of playing there. He’d woken up in the back of a car that was achingly familiar to the image of the manor looming ahead of him like a furious ghost, windows acting as dozens of accusing eyes. Now the car sat in front of the building, idling silently as he stood in front of it, and all Noctis could do was stare. 

He remembered most of the night perfectly. A boring dinner and dance in honor of his thirteenth birthday, more for appearances than for his pleasure like so many birthdays he’d suffered through before. He’d gone so far as the creep into his father’s study, clutching the hand of his friend Lady Lunafreya, to curl up on a couch and get away from the hoard of simpering nobles. They'd been speaking, catching up on what had happened in the time since they'd last seen each other, Luna's dgs curled up at their feet. 

And then they'd smelled smoke and heard the sounds of glass shattering a moment before the door had been kicked in, reduced to splinters. People in hooded robes had poured in, swarmed them, and even now he couldn't really recall what had happened next. 

Mostly he remembered the screams.

So many screams. He didn't think he'd ever be rid of the sound of those screams

Everything always seemed to end in spilled blood and fire for Noctis. 

“Well my prince,” The man with him said slowly. “It will take considerable work to rebuild.” 

“Yes.” Noctis turned to face him then blinked in surprise. “You look different.” 

Taller, for starters, and older. His hair was swept up in the front and otherwise pushed back, glasses now sat on the bridge of his nose, and his eyes were a more subdued green. He was dressed in head to toe black save his dark purple animal print shirt. He was even wearing black gloves; Noctis’ eyes lingered there, on his hands.

The demon looked down at himself. “Do you not like this form? I made it into an image you would...enjoy based on what I saw in your mind. Perhaps a female body would be more pleasing; you humans do seem to enjoy wanting one thing but going after another.” 

Noctis cleared his throat and turned away, hoping to hide the heat he could feel rising up his face. “You’re older now.” 

“Ah.” The demon laughed. “You have been away a very long time my prince. Nearly six years; the damage done to you took...some time to repair and I had to age to match. I hope that won’t be a problem. Whatever you desire is the form I will wear." 

Noctis opened his mouth to protest (that seemed like a lot of pressure to put on him) then shut it, opting to turn to face the car. Six years? But now that he knew, that he’d heard the words, he could see it in the image reflected in the dark glass of the car’s window. He touched his face, felt the sharper planes as he took in the longer hair and hollow blue eyes, and breathed out. He knew this face, hadn’t changed so much that he didn’t know himself, and yet he was sure just the day before he’d been thirteen. 

Thirteen and bleeding out at the center of a demon summoning circle. 

Six years. 

“Shall we go inside?” The demon called. Noctis glanced back to see he was standing at the foot of the stairs that lead to the front entrance. “There is much to be done.”

Noctis nodded, hurrying to fall into step with him. They climbed the stairs side by side, footsteps echoing in the quiet. The steps were littered with rust colored stains and old char marks. He breathed in and tasted ash in the air, closed his eyes and saw the frantic nobles running and shoving, tumbling down the stairs with sicking cracks of broken bone and crushing each other beneath their polished shoes as they attempted to escape their fates.

“Do you have a name?” 

The demon tilted his head to the side; he was a bit taller than Noctis was, built a bit broader, and when he smiled his eyes glowed that sickening green Noctis remembered. “I will answer to whatever my prince calls me.” 

Noctis turned his gaze back to the blackened remains of in front of him. The closer he got the more he sank into the past; the crack and groan of wood as it burned, the way the smoke burned his eyes and his throat, or perhaps it was just that he’d screamed himself raw while he was carried away by his captors, the heat blistering his skin. 

“We’re going to need help returning this place to it’s former glory.” The demon said as he held open the soot covered door; the edges crumbled under his fingers. “I have a few people in mind, one of whom I believe is in the area but I think he’ll find us soon enough.”

Noctis stepped into the entrance hall, eyes sweeping around to take in the remains of the cracked marble flooring, the charred walls, the splintered doors that lead to the sitting room on one side and library on the other, the grand staircase and the spot on the first landing, where the stairs split into two, where a painting of his mother had used to hang. 

There was nothing but ash and a strangely clean rectangular spot on the wall left behind. 

Noctis frowned hard, trying to understand the wave of sadness that washed over him. His mother had died years ago and he’d long since come to accept it, he remembered her only as a hazy impression of warmth and bell-like laughter. Why would he care about a painting he hadn’t paid any attention to in years. 

He looked away, fingers flexing anxiously. “It feels...dead.”

Once upon a time he’d felt magic in this place, pulsing like a steady heartbeat just below the surface and brushing over his skin in small static filled bursts. but now there was nothing. It was a corpse, long dead and rotted. He’d wanted so much to come back, had hoped it would jump start the magic that had been torn of him when he’d been made a sacrifice, but maybe that had been foolish. He felt nothing at all. Not from the house and not within himself. 

Was this emptiness a consequence of the contract, his punishment for forsaking the gods and turning to a demon? 

The demon’s hand brushed his own and their fingers threaded together. He let himself be pulled close enough that he could feel the inhuman heat that radiated from the demon and see the strange rust colored ring around his pupils. It was like dried blood. 

The demon leaned towards him, lips curving up at the corners. “We shall knock it down, build upon the bones, and bring life back.”

Noctis licked his lips and pretended he didn’t notice the demon’s eyes following his tongue or feel his hot breath caressing his skin and that his heart hadn't leapt at the stupidly dramatic declaration. The demon’s other hand gripped his shoulder and squeezed. There were flecks of gold in his eyes; they caught the orange of the setting sun overhead, reaching for them through what little remained of the roof, and blazed like the dying embers in a fireplace.

“Ignis.” 

The demon’s-Ignis-eyebrows went up for a moment but then he was smiling with teeth too sharp, too strange, and stepping away. “Yes, my prince.” 

For the first time since waking up Noctis felt his magic, warm and familiar, prickling his skin. He flexed his fingers again, watching as blue light crackled around them.

Ignis motioned for him to turn back towards the door. "Come, if we leave now we can make it to town in time to shop for something to prepare for dinner." 

"You cook?" 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Did I say one shot? I meant two shot. I mean, half the charm of Black Butler was in the house staff, no? And what is Noctis without all of his bros?


End file.
